Page 51 of Alliance

I can’t be sure, but I don’t see any other options.

I nod my head, hoping in that simple movement I can actually display what I’m feeling. Begging that she can see how much I want tomorrow with her. Pray that she knows I’m addicted to her, and I want to see every day of her life until she’s old and gray. That I can’t bear the thought of never seeing her smile again. And she won’t smile today, but maybe someday, and I’m clinging on to that.

The words don’t come out. Not with Damien and Carlotta’s gazes glued to me. So instead, I hope my eyes say it, hope she gets it and understands.

Every fiber of my being hurts at the thought of leaving her here, my soul on fire. But she nods back, telling me to go.

So I do.

No one stops me as I walk through the hall; Tony only gives me a curt nod as I leave the house.

I slam the door of my Jeep, my whole body throbbing from the pain of leaving her behind after knowing what she just did. Leaving her in the hands of those people.

There must be something I can do, something more. But I can’t think of a better plan as I pluck my phone from my pocket and pull up Sam’s contact.

It’s time he lets me in on his plan.

Leaving Lana behind has me feeling empty. I tossed and turned all night, my heart aching inside my chest. It felt like someone had wrapped their fingers around the organ and squeezed tightly.

I’ve never felt this way about someone, never gave someone enough of my heart to feel like this.

I was guarded—protected myself—before her. I can’t place what it is about her that made me so damn vulnerable, willing to risk everything for her.

Even as I drive my Jeep across town, my eyes roaming the rearview mirror in search of followers, it’s not me that I’m worried about.

My mind is racing with thoughts of what her family might do to her.

The only thing I do know, is that they have no intention of helping her.

I find Sam at his apartment, a million-dollar historic townhouse in the French Quarter. My mind is racing with the combination of anger and guilt. I’m not sure if I want to punch Sam or pray he has a solution, the endgame in sight.

“What happened?” he asks, his palms are sprawled across his oak desk. His office sits on the second floor of his home, the windows looking out into the quarter.

Frown lines mar his face, and for a second I think that Sam might be the only one is his finally trying to protect Lana as much as I am.

I scrub a hand over my face before I answer his question. I’m exhausted, my bones aching, my head throbbing. “She tried to kill herself.”

“How?”

“Pills.” I blow out a breath. “She swallowed a bunch of pills.” My stomach twists as I tell him.

Sam exhales heavily when he runs a hand through his hair. “Damnit,” he growls, slamming his hand down on the desk. “They’re gonna fucking kill her, both of them with their antics.”

“They?” I ask. Sam shifts his gaze to me at the question.

“Damien and Carlotta, the two cunts. I didn’t want Lana to...follow in her sister’s footsteps.” He sounds remorseful when he says it, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him mention his other cousin.

To be fair, all of New Orleans stopped talking about Lily a week after her suicide. It was like the whole town forgot about the dead Costello grandchild. But I kept seeing her mangled body in my dreams. Even though I’d never met the girl, only knew her by the status associated with her. Still, I drove three miles with her body in the trunk of my car. It was enough to make her memorable.

It was a new kind of fucked-up for me.

But the money…it always came back to the money.

It always came back to Ma, Elly, and Anthony.

I would steal, sell drugs, and move dead bodies as long as the three of them were safe and happy.

“Why?” I ask him, annoyance lacing my tone. “Why are they doing this? What’s so important about LaFontaine anyway?”

---